Recovery
by Dalek Warrior
Summary: What would happen to Edmund after being stabbed by the witch if Lucy had never been given the cordial? Mainly written because syfy aired Prince Caspian enough for me to find Skander Keynes attractive, anyone with me?


**Author's Note: In this story Peter is 17, Susan is 16, Edmund is 14, and Lucy is 11. Also, Lucy was never given any cordial so bear that in mind…**

Pain and noise were the only two things Edmund could decipher in his current state; lying on the cold, hard ground, blood pouring out of his stomach. The pain of his wound had slowly blossomed out to fill his whole body, now agonizing at the center. How long would he have left? He could feel himself growing cold and the sound of his labored breathing reached his ears above the sound of his frantically pounding heart. It felt as if air wouldn't enter his lungs and he knew this was a bad sign, he had little time left. His vision began to gray at the edges and with no hope left he allowed himself to fall unconscious.

The battle had just ended, Aslan had saved them all in the fight against the White Witch, and the Pevensie children, minus their youngest brother, were all searching the battlefield for their missing sibling. As each moment passed they grew more anxious and worried, Peter had seen Edmund fall but could not find him now that he was finally able to help. As more minutes of fruitless searching passed Aslan came to them with a grim expression upon his face, his mane ruffled by the wind.

"I am afraid that your brother did not make it out of this battle unscathed." He said, solemnly.

"He has been taken back to camp with the few other critically injured, I know not of his condition. "

"No." Peter whispered. He was supposed to have protected Edmund, he should be the one hurt and dying, not his younger brother.

"You are no longer needed here, please go see your brother. Help him in any way you can." He finished, giving Lucy and Susan a sad look before turning to speak with a few centaurs up on the ridge.

Peter was stunned, he couldn't even move. This whole time, their wondrous adventure in Narnia had been like a dream, now it had turned to a nightmare. Being a hero in the eyes of the Narnians had been a position Peter filled well, down to swinging his sword and leading the army into battle. Now he realized just how foolish he had been, he had never considered the possibility that one of them could die, this was not their world, why did he let Edmund fight for it? Although he wished well for the future of Narnia this was not something he should have let his family risk their lives for, regardless of their position in the eyes of this world. Ages seemed to pass when in reality it was only a few seconds. He snapped out of his thoughts to see Susan staring him in the face, Lucy a few feet away sobbing on the ground.

"Go, we'll be there shortly."

"Why, won't you come with me?" Peter asked.

"We'll be right behind you Peter, but Ed will need you for this. You know as well as I that he won't show pain in front of Lucy and I, go help him. We'll be in the camp shortly, get us immediately if…"

Peter grasped what she was saying, even if she couldn't finish it. She had begun to sob in earnest, the tears streaming down her face at an astonishing speed. He reached up and placed his hand on her shoulder, nodding to her before turning and running to his horse. Mounting him quickly he began the too long ride back to camp, knowing all the while that his brother could be dying at that moment.

Upon arriving at the camp Peter had immediately ran into the medical tent, only to be stopped by the centaur in charge. He didn't spot Edmund among any of the around fifteen injured currently residing in the tent.

"Edmund is in your tent, there is nothing more we can do, it is up to him now. I am sorry." The centaur told him, before turning back to the tent. Throwing Peter a look over his shoulder, one that told him to be prepared for the state his brother would be in.

In under a minute Peter had made his way to their shared tent and lifted up the flap. What he saw brought tears to his eyes. Edmund was lying in his bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist. Covering the majority of his torso, starting below the navel and ending a few inches below his nipples was a thick wrapping of white gauze, stained red in the center. Every heave of his chest looked painful and his breathing was short and labored, he was more panting than breathing. When the beaver sitting at his side vacated his seat and left upon seeing Peter he got his first look at his face. His lip was bloodied and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His dark hair was matted to his forehead, either from the exertion of breathing or from the wet cloth the beaver had been moping his brow with. His hands were clenched in the sheets in pain and every part of him looked the part of the dying soldier. Finally Peter looked into his brother's eyes. The dark brown was glazed over with fever yet they managed to maintain the sharp piercing quality they had always held.

"Peter." Edmund croaked, feeble from the pain of being alive.

That was all it took for him to rush to his brother's side, clasping his hand in Edmunds. Using his other hand he brushed the hair out of Ed's eyes, like their mother had done when the bombs would fall. Unlike their mother though, he could not bring himself to whisper false statements. It was hard to believe that Edmund would live in his current state, although he hoped to God he was wrong. At the familiar motion Edmund squeezed his brother's hand, bringing it to lie on his hip.

"This is not your fault." He whispered, confusing Peter.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this, I know its what you'll want to do but I beg you not to. It was my choice to go after the witch and it was my choice to fight, you could never have stopped me in a million years." He said, panting and out of breath from the long amount of time he had spent talking without respite.

"Ed…"

"It's the truth Peter…please…I'm on my deathbed…promise me it..." Edmund panted out, having more and more trouble breathing as time passed.

"I promise you Edmund, I won't blame myself." It took all of Peter's willpower not to break out crying as he said that. He couldn't bring himself to tell Edmund to keep up hope for he couldn't keep it himself.

The stain of red on Edmund's bandages was growing darker with every labored breath he took. The hold on Peter's hand was much more forceful than it had been earlier, now his fingers were being forced together and he doubted his brother realized it but he had begun pressing his hand into his hip, probably to anchor himself, to keep from crying out in the agony he was surely in. To Peter's surprise a single tear made its way down Ed's face as he began to speak.

"I…can barely…breathe... anymore.." He gasped, his voice breaking as he began to realize what that really meant.

"Hold on Ed, hold on." Peter told him, he had an idea and was willing to do anything to help his brother.

He quickly peeled off his armor, leaving him in only a tunic and boxers before placing his arms under Edmunds back, much to his confusion.

"I'm sorry Ed." Before he could respond Peter lifted him up and slid himself in under his brothers back. The sounds of pure agony that came from his brother broke his heart. He slowly lowered his brother's back onto his chest, leaning his head over his left shoulder.

"Breathe with me, come on Ed, breathe with me." He coached, taking deep exaggerated breaths.

After a few painful minutes Edmund managed to breathe in tune with his older brother. The deep breathing was painful beyond belief but his brother's soothing tone kept him from stopping. He was reminded of the time his father had done this to Peter years ago after he had experienced a panic attack and was struck by the notion that Peter was willing to do this for him. He was in such pain that the awkwardness of the situation did not even hit him at all. He felt cool drops of water hitting his face and felt the blessedly cool relief of the wet cloth against his hot skin. Peter slowly mopped the sweat off of his face and neck, as well as his chest, doing so as lightly as possible. The sound of Edmund's breathing was still rough and ragged but to Peter's delight he was breathing easier than when he had first entered the tent.

Unbeknownst to either of the young men, Susan and Lucy stood at the entrance of the tent looking through the flap with tears in their eyes. Both of them were worried for their brother but they knew immediately that he was in good hands. Giving them their privacy Susan steered Lucy away from the tent to grab some food after the trying battle.

Unaware of their previous audience Peter continued the same routine. Breathing heavily enough for Edmund to feel it through his back, while mopping his brow with the cloth, the whole time speaking to him, uttering assurances. He had never been this intimate with his brother before but neither were embarrassed, Edmund was rather grateful. He reached up for Peter's hand, squeezing it slightly, before falling into a fever-induced sleep he managed to whisper to Peter:

"Thank you…"

For the next few hours neither of them moved, Edmund fell in and out of fitful sleep, the whole time lying against his brother's chest, feeling secure for the first time since the war had begun. Over the next few days Peter stayed with Edmund, leaving only when absolutely necessary and returning as soon as humanly possible, always leaving his sisters as company. Those days of Edmund's recovery brought the Pevensie brothers closer than they had ever been, being the only boys at their school to actually hug each other. And to his day, even outside of Narnia, Edmund still bears the scar of the Witch's wand, reminding him of his near death, and of the love of his brother and family.

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it, please review, it'll make Aslan really happy. **


End file.
